The Secrets of Dr. Taverner (17 page)

Apparently Taverner's magic was not long in working, for a
couple of days later I handed Martin a letter which caused his
face to light up with pleasure, and sent him off to his room to
read it in private. Half an hour later he came to me in the office
and said:

"Dr. Rhodes, would it be convenient if I had a couple of
guests to lunch tomorrow?"

I assured him that this would be the case, and noted the
change wrought in his appearance by the arrival of the long
wished-for letter. He would have faced a pack of black dogs at
that moment.

Next day I caught sight of Martin showing two ladies round
the grounds, and when they came into the dining-room he
introduced them as Mrs. and Miss Hallam. There seemed to be
something wrong with the girl, I thought; she was so curiously
distrait and absent-minded. Martin, however, was in the seventh
heaven; the man's transparent pleasure was almost amusing to
witness. I was watching the little comedy with a covert smile,
when suddenly it changed to tragedy.

As the girl stripped her gloves off she revealed a ring upon
the third finger of her left hand. It was undoubtedly an
engagement ring. I raised my eyes to Martin's face, and saw that
his were fixed upon it. In the space of a few seconds the man
crumpled; the happy little luncheon party was over. He strove to
play his part as host, but the effort was pitiful to watch, and I
was thankful when the close of the meal permitted me to
withdraw.

I was not allowed to escape however. Taverner caught my
arm as I was leaving the room and drew me out on the terrace.

"Come along," he said. "I want to make friends with the
Hallam family; they may be able to throw some light on our
problem."

We found that Martin had paired off with the mother, so we
had no difficulty in strolling round the garden with the girl
between us. She seemed to welcome the arrangement, and we
had not been together many minutes before the reason was made
evident.

"Dr. Taverner," she said, "may I talk to you about myself?"

"I shall be delighted, Miss Hallam," he replied. "What is it
you want to ask me about?"

"I am so very puzzled about something. Is it possible to be in
love with a person you don't like?"

"Quite possible," said Taverner, "but not likely to be very
satisfactory,"

"I am engaged to a man," she said, sliding her engagement
ring on and off her finger, "whom I am madly, desperately in
love with when he is not there, and as soon as he is present I feel
a sense of horror and repulsion for him. When I am away, I long
to be with him, and when I am with him, I feel as if everything
were wrong and horrible. I cannot make myself clear, but do you
grasp what I mean?"

"How did you come to get engaged to him?" asked Taverner.

"In the ordinary way. I have known him nearly as long as I
have Billy," indicating Martin, who was just ahead of us,
walking with the mother.

"No undue influence was used?" said Taverner.

"No, I don't think so. He just asked me to marry him, and I
said I would."

"How long before that had you known that you would accept
him if he proposed to you?"

"I don't know. I hadn't thought of it; in fact the engagement
was as much a surprise to me as to everyone else. I had never
thought of him in that way till about three weeks ago, and then I
suddenly realized that he was the man I wanted to marry. It was
a sudden impulse, but so strong and clear that I knew it was the
thing for me to do."

"And you do not regret it?"

"I did not until today, but as I was sitting in the dining room I
suddenly felt how thankful I should be if I had not got to go back
to Tony."

Taverner looked at me. "The psychic isolation of this house
has its uses," he said. Then he turned to the girl again. "You
don't suppose that it was Mr. Mortimer's forceful personality
that influenced your decision?"

I was secretly amused at Taverner's shot in the dark, and the
way the girl walked blissfully into his trap.

"Oh, no," she said, "I often get those impulses; it was on just
such a one that I came down here."

"Then," said Taverner, "it may well be on just such another
that you got engaged to Mortimer, so I may as well tell you that
it was I who was responsible for that impulse."

The girl stared at him in amazement.

"As soon as I knew of your existence I wanted to see you.
There is a soul over there that is in my care at present, and I
think you play a part in his welfare."

"I know I do," said the girl, gazing at the broad shoulders of
the unconscious Martin with so much wistfulness and yearning
that she clearly betrayed where her real feelings lay.

"Some people send telegrams when they wish to com-
municate, but I don't; I send thoughts, because I am certain they
will be obeyed. A person may disregard a telegram, but he will
act on a thought, because he believes it to be his own; though, of
course, it is necessary that he should not suspect he is receiving
suggestion, or he would probably turn round and do the exact
opposite."

Miss Hallam stared at him in astonishment. "Is such a thing
possible?" she exclaimed. "I can hardly believe it."

"You see that vase of scarlet geraniums to the left of the
path? I will make your mother turn aside and pick one. Now
watch."

We both gazed at the unconscious woman as Taverner
concentrated his attention upon her, and sure enough, as they
drew abreast of the vase, she turned aside and picked a scarlet
blossom.

"What are you doing to our geraniums?" Taverner called to
her.

"I am so sorry," she called back, "I am afraid I yielded to a
sudden impulse."

"All thoughts are not generated within the mind that thinks
them," said Taverner. "We are constantly giving each other
unconscious suggestions, and influencing minds without
knowing it, and if a man who understands the power of thought
deliberately trains his mind in its use, there are few things he
cannot do."

We had regained the terrace in the course of our walk, and
Taverner took his farewell and retired to the office. I followed
him, and found him with the safe open and his card index upon
the table.

"Well, Rhodes, what do you make of it all?" he greeted me.

"Martin and Mortimer after the same girl," said I. "And
Mortimer uses for his private ends the same methods you use on
your patients."

"Precisely, "said Taverner. "An excellent object lesson in the
ways of black and white occultism. We both study the human
mind--we both study the hidden forces of nature; I use my
knowledge for healing and Mortimer uses his for destruction."

"Taverner," I said, facing him, "what is to prevent you also
from using your great knowledge for personal ends?"

"Several things, my friend," he replied. "In the first place,
those who are taught as I am taught are (though I say it who
shouldn't) picked men, carefully tested. Secondly, I am a
member of an organization which would assuredly exact
retribution for the abuse of its training; and, thirdly, knowing
what I do, I dare not abuse the powers that have been entrusted
to me. There is no such thing as a straight line in the universe;
everything works in curves; therefore it is only a matter of time
before that which you send out from your mind returns to it.
Sooner or later Martin's dog will come home to its master."

Martin was absent from the evening meal, and Taverner
immediately enquired his whereabouts.

"He walked over with his friends to the crossroads to put
them on the bus for Hazlemere," someone volunteered, and
Taverner, who did not seem too well satisfied looked at his
watch.

"It will be light for a couple of hours yet," he said. "If he is
not in by dusk, Rhodes, let me know."

It was a grey evening, threatening storm, and darkness set in
early. Soon after eight I sought Taverner in his study and said:
"Martin isn't in yet, doctor."

"Then we had better go and look for him," said my colleague.

We went out by the window to avoid observation on the part
of our other patients, and, making our way through the
shrubberies, were soon out upon the moor.

"I wish we knew which way he would come," said Taverner.
"There is a profusion of paths to choose from. We had better get
on to high ground and watch for him with the field-glasses."

We made our way to a bluff topped with wind-torn Scotch
firs, and Taverner swept the heather paths with his binoculars. A
mile away he picked out a figure moving in our direction, but it
was too far off for identification.

"Probably Martin," said my companion, "but we can't be
sure yet. We had better stop up here and await events; if we drop
down into the hollow we shall lose sight of him. You take the
glasses; your eyes are better than mine. How infernally early it is
getting dark tonight. We ought to have had another half-hour of
daylight."

A cold wind had sprung up, making us shiver in our thin
clothes, for we were both in evening dress and hatless. Heavy
grey clouds were banking up in the west, and the trees moaned
uneasily. The man out on the moor was moving at a good pace,
looking neither to right nor left. Except for his solitary figure the
great grey waste was empty.

All of a sudden the swinging stride was interrupted; he
looked over his shoulder, paused, and then quickened his pace.
Then he looked over his shoulder again and broke into a half
trot. After a few yards of this he dropped to a walk again, and
held steadily on his way, refusing to turn his head.

I handed the glasses to Taverner.

"It's Martin right enough," he said; "and he has seen the
dog."

We could make out now the path he was following, and,
descending from the hill, set out at a rapid pace to meet him. We
had gone about a quarter of a mile when a sound arose in the
darkness ahead of us; the piercing, inarticulate shriek of a
creature being hunted to death.

Taverner let out such a halloo as I did not think human lungs
were capable of. We tore along the path to the crest of a rise, and
as we raced down the opposite slope, we made out a figure
struggling across the heather. Our white shirt fronts showed up
plainly in the gathering dusk, and he headed towards us. It was
Martin running for his life from the death hound.

I rapidly outdistanced Taverner, and caught the hunted man
in my arms as we literally cannoned into each other in the
narrow path. I could feel the played-out heart knocking like a
badly-running engine against his side. I laid him flat on the
ground, and Taverner coming up with his pocket medicine case,
we did what we could.

We were only just in time. A few more yards and the man
would have dropped. As I straightened my back and looked
round into the darkness, I thanked God that I had not that
horrible power of vision which would have enabled me to see
what it was that had slunk off over the heather at our approach.
That something went I had no doubt, for half a dozen sheep,
grazing a few hundred yards away, scattered to give it passage.